I Was There!

I've had an epiphany this week...No strike by lightning. No big religious conversion. No calls I've won the Texas Lottery or a wealthy great uncle three-times removed has left me millions of dollars in foreign currency.

But it was a moment of conviction which put into perspective of more than a decade of confusion and frustration.

For those of you who know me, . . and to you strangers who happen onto this blog, . . let me fill in the blanks about this bald guy who loves movies, acting, writing, story-telling and making a really good cup of coffee.

I am a cancer survivor: It's been more than a year-and-a-half. All my tests have come back negative. . . But that wasn't my epiphany.

I survived a roll-over accident: In January of this year, everything was thrown from the vehicle but me. . . But that wasn't the epiphany.

I've started new careers, seen moderate success, and had fun along the way: . . .But my epiphany was not found in work success or failure.

I crossed the half-century mark: In the process, I've avoided the mid-life excuses that assault so many men. I'm looking forward to my next decade celebration two years away. I know now what I don't want to do with the rest of my life. . . But my epiphany did not come with the experience of years.

Last night I was driving on the Interstate, listening to the radio, when the random pieces fell into place. The whys, the mystery, the frustration at the silence of Heaven was answered in a moment when my thoughts were on less celestial matters.

In the Bible book of Job, we find a successful, well-off man with a large family, many possessions and several close friends that shared his value system. Today he would have appeared in Fortune 500, GQ, and been the subject of television and news reports on the Rich and Famous. But what made him the target of occult attack was his unwavering commitment to his Creator.

In contrast to the popularity of the American "Name It and Claim It, prosperity" Christianity, Job lost everything except a bitter, cynical wife in a series of catastrophic events. Accused by three of his best friends of being a spiritual fraud with some secret sin in his life, Job experienced his children, property, income, and finally his health taken away. Covered in boils, his loving spouse comes and offers her compassionate advice: "Why don't you curse God and die!"

I am not claiming to be a Job or have experience one-tenth what this man suffered. However I do understand that at the loss of something we hold precious, especially as Christ-followers, there is something going on behind the scenes God has not chosen to enlighten us on. How easy for me to confuse closed doors and windows of opportunity as His disfavor.

After college, I was privileged to pursue occupational choices that fit my giftings. After several years in radio, I moved on to television, developing skills in an atmosphere consistent with my spiritual passions. I've enjoyed on- and off-camera work, at times reaching a national audience. After two decades, I transitioned into independent video writing and production which involved some international travel.

Suddenly, it was over. Like a hard-stop at some busy intersection, the prospects dried up and there were no doors of opportunity open to any of the experiences I had chosen to define myself by. I was frustrated, confused, and angry at God.

Herein lies my epiphany, over 10 years later: One of my travels took me to a tiny village in north of Moscow, Russia . Pictures of a little orphan would result in the adoption of our son Pasha. After 5 years of cultural conflict and absorption, my wife and I took steps to bring another boy into the circle of our family, this time an American-born child.

Pasha, now twenty, and Brian, approaching 15, are opposite in personality as night and day. And, like most parents experience, the two Brantley recruits are different in so many ways to our oldest son Jon, who is 32 and married.

Last night, I realized what a God-orchestrated opportunity I was participating in. I WAS THERE! I had been there to watch and influence my boys negotiation from childhood into puberty and beyond. How many of my peers will look back on the years of their children's passage into adulthood without regrets. I know of no man, in a nursing home or on his deathbed, who wished he had spent more time at the office.

This is not to say that child raising has been all laughs and fun. There are moments when the advice of Mark Twain seems viable:

"When a child reaches 12 you should put him in a barrel and feed him through a knothole. When he reaches 15 you should board up the knothole. And you shouldn't release him until he is at least 21."

Yet within the defiance, anger, tears of reconciliation, discipline, guilt, compromise, blackmail, and intimidation, there are the moments that I will treasure: The school awards despite learning disabilities, the sleepy hugs in the morning, discussions about girls and what made them unique and confusing, the laughter and competition at cards or boardgames, the accomplishment in sports or personal hobbies, thrill of standing with a son on his wedding day watching his marital life-cycle begin, welcoming a daughter-in-law into the family.

AS I SEE IT, there are video tapes which will play in my mind, memories no one can take away. Some may be embellished with the replaying. Some may be edited to only remember the positive words spoken. But no matter how my sons turn out, in God's time and in His will, . . .

I WAS THERE!